


Nothing Left to Lose

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-15
Updated: 2001-03-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Krycek shows up at Mulder's apartment (again) but Mulder isn't in the mood for cryptic obscurity, just straight talking. Who is Krycek to disagree?





	Nothing Left to Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Nothing Left to Lose by Jami Wilsen

Date: 10/23/2000  
Title: Nothing Left To Lose  
Disclaimer: this piece of slash fanfic is written purely for entertainment purposes; all characters and X-Files series' situations referred to belong to Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions, etc. I would be more than happy to give consultation on future episodes to the writers though [g]  
Spoilers: some, up to Requiem somewhere, but not including it. Takes place *way* before Tunisia ;)  
Archive: Catacombs, RatB. Please ask!  
Rating: NC-17 - Language, m/m sex  
Pairing: M/K  
Feedback:   
Summary: Krycek shows up at Mulder's apartment (again) but Mulder isn't in the mood for cryptic obscurity, just straight talking. Who is Krycek to disagree?  
Warning: PWP. Discussion ensues, but there *is* smut in here eventually. Graphic smut. Very graphic. If reading about two hot guys doing lusciously graphic things to each other doesn't turn you on, why continue? Go back, before it is too late... go on, further...click the /back/ button...  
Betas: beloved Cattnip, and wild Tigeress

* * *

Nothing Left to Lose  
by Jami Wilsen

The knock on the door was distracting but not to the point that it made Mulder lose his train of thought. He ignored it.

The knock came again and he called out absently, "I'm busy!"

Again with the knocking! Damn it. "Who is it?"

There was a silence and then an all-to-familiar voice called back, muffled through the door, "Krycek." There was an obvious pause as he waited to see if Mulder would react. When there was no reply, he continued, "I need to talk to you, Mulder."

Damn it. "Not right now. Can't it wait? I'm kind of busy, here," he called back, scrolling down intently.

Now *this* particular file was very interesting indeed. He had half a mind to download it and forward it to Frohike and see what the guys would make of it... Multi-tasking all these windows was crowding his taskbar and he was worried that his browser would crash before he'd finished perusing the files. It was a secure area he'd accessed and he was worried about losing the connection before he finished sifting through its contents. It had been happening more frequently of late; just when he had something really good, Explorer would crash and he'd have to go through sometimes tortuous processes to get back in. And god alone knew when and if he'd ever get back into this particular NSA database again. He couldn't bookmark this stuff, they'd be onto him if he did.

There was another, longer pause from Krycek. "I'm afraid not. I have to see you tonight. Look, this is time-sensitive, Mulder. There are some things you've got to hear."

Impatiently, Mulder called, "I'm busy, here. I gotta check this out... this is a good one. Go away. Or - come in if you have to. But be quiet, I need to finish this."

"Mulder, your door's locked. Could you at least tear yourself away long enough to open it?"

His voice amply demonstrating his distracted state and irritation at Krycek's constant interruption, Mulder shouted, "Look, just - can't you let yourself in like you usually do?!"

Incredulous, Krycek regarded the still-locked door before him. This exchange was becoming surreal. He'd thought he would be answered with either gunshots or a full-blown fistfight.

He'd expected to find the man asleep, actually, so he considered that he was lucky he didn't have to wake him - or disturb a private ritual, although that could have been interesting... But when he'd arrived on the street and looked up at the window, the light was on. The whole time he'd gotten out of the car and made his way into the building and up the stairs, he had visions of Mulder sacked out on the couch lounging in front of a cheap sci-fi on TV, or even indulging in one of his notoriously cheesy porno videos, parading before him.

He sighed and delved into his pocket to fish out his lockpick. Soon, he let himself in and was shutting the door behind him. Mulder was actually sitting at his desk surrounded with papers, intently regarding his computer. The lamp was on, the only other light was from the monitor illuminating Mulder's face.

"You're working late. Found some good x-rated sites?" Alex cautiously moved closer, ready to move if Mulder showed signs of getting up.

Mulder's glasses gave him an owlish look. He sighed deeply from the desk, before his PC. He didn't bother looking up. "So you bother to knock now? What do you want, Krycek?" Mulder hoped his tone conveyed the opinion that Krycek's presence was about as welcome as a bout of amoebic dysentery.

Alex shrugged, sitting resignedly on the couch. He sounded as weary as he looked. His clothes were innocuous, even ordinary. Jeans, t- shirt, jacket. Not even leather this time. He'd dressed to blend in, ordinary enough to be invisible. His gloved left hand was conspicuous though; his right hand was bare. "To help you, for a change. Come on, why do I ever come here? I've got a lead for you." How original, he sneered at himself. He wondered if that sounded as pathetic to Mulder's ears as it did to his own.

Mulder peered over his glasses at him momentarily, over the monitor. "Did you at least bring your own gun this time? It was kind of humiliating to have you holding mine on me, the last time you graced me with your presence."

Secretly he wondered, if he stayed calm then things wouldn't get out of control. He didn't think the man wanted him dead, but who knew who *else* did? Entertaining assassins after midnight. Christ. After the events of the last time Krycek came here, Mulder had wondered if he was actually afraid... Of Krycek? Of this man; he realized he didn't know him at all. He'd known him for years and knew less of him than ever. God, he'd be stupid not to be wary. He was dangerous. And he really didn't feel like fighting for his life just now, or trying to kill Krycek either.

He added, "What are you doing here? What the hell do you want?"

"To talk. I told you, I have information for you - critical, actually. Believe me, you'll thank me in the morning." Alex took out two of his guns and placed them on the table in a gesture meant to let Mulder know that he *had* come to talk.

"Forgive me; I'm inclined to not give a shit. What, you're not here to finish the job you should have done years ago?" Mulder sighed again and began wrapping up what he was doing. It was obvious Krycek was not going to leave him in peace, at least until he'd handed him whatever covert, precarious shadows he had for him to chase this time.

Krycek threw him a look. "Oh, *please*. Give me a break; if I had any serious intention of killing you I *would* have done it years ago. You already know that. Don't you ever get sick of bickering with me?" Careful, there. Don't want to sound *too* whiny, do we? Alex debated the wisdom of having come here at all. Then again, he was bored. Let this be a lesson to you, Fox, beware free agents dabbling in Consortium business who suffer from restlessness who have irrational desires to tidy up loose ends in their lives.

"Not really." Baby-faced killer. I oughta throw him out on his ass.

"Yeah? Well, I find it tiresome. You know, just for once, I'd appreciate it if you treated me like a human being. God knows you don't have enough of them in your life. Bug monsters, vampires, flukemen and aliens... All I want is to talk in a civil manner for once. I'd like to get past the usual crap; maybe hold a decent conversation with you without your usual bitch-session about me being a traitor, bastard and all-around son of a bitch. In fact, I'd like us to start over." And added silently, why don't I just get down on my knees... it would prove just as effective. Alex didn't think Mulder would buy this tonight. Which of course was ironic because Mulder never accepted the actual truth when he gave it to him.

Mulder leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses, rubbing his face. "Bullshit. I don't buy it, Krycek. If you really felt that way, you wouldn't have betrayed me in the first place. Actions speak louder than words, and you've always made your intentions abundantly clear with your actions, while lying through your teeth," Mulder said in a disinterested voice.

Mulder wasn't sure which made him more angry; Krycek's baby-faced, blatant act of feigned innocence or the hollow, guarded expression he pulled when he looked away, as though afraid that Mulder might discover his opinions meant something to him. Mulder was tired of the attempts to emotionally manipulate him. Of that wounded look that crossed Krycek's face every so often. It was all an act, and it grated on his nerves. It always had. It still had a lingering feel of the original 'fresh-faced, green, junior G-man' attempt to ingratiate himself and prove his loyalty... The charming killer. The cold, pretty killer. Pretending to have a heart. Ha. That ranked up there as the most aggravating, actually. Don't think about that kiss he gave me, though. Don't go there.

He added, "Come to throw me another crumb from the table? Or is this another wild goose chase? I'm not sure it's worth it. Don't you ever get tired of playing us all off against each other? I ought to do the right thing and just shoot you here and now. Do the world a favor." Or finish what you started last time, seeing as you were too afraid to... whoa. Don't go there. Stop thinking about it... make him bring it up first.

Alex stared at him. "You actually think that *I'm* responsible for all the shit that's happened to you and everyone else? The Syndicate's gone; the Elders are dead, torched by Rebel aliens, so *I* should pay for their sins? Isn't that a little too convenient, seeing as you don't have anyone left to pin the blame on?"

"You betrayed me! You betrayed your country, your own goddamned planet, you murdered my father and - you -" Mulder stopped in his tirade, not wanting to give in to the red rage that was all too easy to fall into. He was aware that the man would be armed despite the two guns on his table. And although he'd never actually attacked him, he knew Krycek could defend himself. Which was interesting when one considered that he *only* ever defended himself when Mulder went for him, never tried to hit him back.... Hm. Maybe he could find out why. "So you're saying you weren't there? That you aren't responsible for the things that happened to me and to my partner and our families?" Mulder glared at him. "That you don't want me in a box, six feet under?"

"Of course not, you idiot. Why do you always have to - I *wasn't* to blame for - !" Alex exclaimed, stopping. He was getting irritated. Why did Mulder always manage to get under his skin. "I wasn't even involved - at least, not in the beginning. Come on, Mulder, think about it. It wasn't until after Tunguska that I really began to find my way into the Syndicate. On Skyland Mountain when they took Dana Scully, I was told to stop you, that's *all*. To keep you from getting there. They would have taken you too, you can't tell me you don't believe me on that score now! Not after everything you've seen, everything you know. They had a necessarily exclusive group - they couldn't afford to let just anyone in on their little 'project'. The possibilities of sabotage and infiltration were high, they always had been. It wasn't until after Kazhakstan that I got back in with them. I was lucky the Brit decided my potential help was worth letting me live. He knew what I was, what my abilities were and how I could benefit them."

Mulder laughed grimly without humor. "I can't believe you think I'll believe a word you say, Krycek. You can spin all the fairytales you want, it won't make me believe you. You killed more than my father, you killed my trust. And the Brit is dead. Looks like you weren't there for him when he needed you most, either. I can't help thinking he got the short end of the stick. But, that's what we get for trusting you."

Alex found himself clenching his jaw. He let out a terse breath before turning away. "Where do you think he got the Russian vaccine that he gave you to save Scully in Antarctica?"

Mulder stopped short. "Okay. Alright, I'll concede that. But it doesn't explain what you're doing here, now. If you want to confess your sins, find a priest. If you need a shoulder to cry on, get thee to a nunnery. I don't know what you expect from me, and I don't care."

Alex shrugged dismissively. "I don't have any expectations." He regarded Mulder impassively from where he sat. "I'd just like to be able to talk. No guns, no handcuffs. And no beatings."

"I can't be bothered to hit you right now, anyway. Oh, you mean really *talk*, like two old friends? Don't take this the wrong way or anything, *Alex*, but I don't think about you. Ever. Friendship has to be earned. Just like respect."

Alex lifted his brows. "And the respect of one's opponent? I respect you as an enemy; I always did."

"I know. And there's the problem, 'enemy mine'; I have yet to believe you're anything but." He cast him a disparaging glance. "I don't respect you, I don't trust you and you've given me every reason not to. You say I can trust you? Prove it."

Alex retorted, "I don't have to prove anything to you. Besides, you said it yourself; actions speak for themselves. If you stopped with the Chicken Little impression long enough to take a look around, you might see that I'm trying to save asses, not kick them."

"I'm getting tired of this. Enough, already. What do you *want*?"

"I don't know why you bother asking, since you never believe what I tell you anyway."

Mulder started to get more angry than bored. "I'm sick to death of playing games. And I'm really tired of arguing points with you. It's late. What do you want from me, Krycek? Tell me," Mulder demanded, "or get the hell out of my apartment!"

Krycek finally broke. He was tired, it was indeed late and he was sick of Mulder's attitude. "What do you *think* I want?" he hissed, the anger transforming him, revealing so many previously hidden emotions that Mulder was quite taken aback to suddenly see them all revealed at once.

"Why is it so fucking unbelievable that I might want to be able to speak with you, without you trying to pistol-whip me or strangle me with your bare hands?"

"I'm not usually like that... I guess you just bring out the worst in me." Mulder wondered if he were seeing the real Krycek behind the cold-blooded mercenary. Or if this were another act, or if a display of emotions from this man meant that he actually meant what he was saying but it had nothing to do with what was really going on. Somehow, seeing any emotion on his face other than the usual smug blandness made him more human. He didn't need to start seeing that. Mulder took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was far too late at night for him to try to sort through Krycek's manipulations and possible motives. But when he opened his eyes again Krycek had not vanished and was still sitting on his couch with that goddamned wounded look again.

Right: examine what was before him. Take it as a given that he *was* only human and could be riled. There was doubt and fear in there, borne of long suffering. To see that his eyes had always shown it, too, was surprising: they'd always been there, only Krycek had hid them behind a stony mask of cold indifference. It was in the eyes, Mulder decided. And realized he could have some fun with this. And he could salvage the evening even if it was just at the expense of Krycek's composure, now that he'd already had to disconnect from his NSA site he'd hacked into. Oh well. Not a complete waste of time here, if he managed to get Krycek to spill something. Besides, he didn't want to admit it, but smashing his knuckles into the other man's face was a bit old after a while and had lost its appeal. He didn't think it would help dispel the hatred he had for him. And somehow, arresting him seemed pointless. Maybe it's because I'm tired, he thought. That's gotta be it.

Unaware of Mulder's pause and new insight, Alex continued, "I'm tired of being your whipping-boy. I want you to take me seriously for once. Why can't you - " he faltered, as if realizing he'd been about to reveal too much.

Friendship: an interesting concept in tandem with Mulder's unrelenting hatred of him. It would be nice just once to have Mulder not treat him like he was his enemy. It would be too perfect, Alex thought, to give Mulder the ideal means of revenge upon him for his original betrayal - which hadn't been one, actually. He'd been told to do a job and he'd done it to the best of his ability... He'd been hired by CSM *before* the FBI, long before being placed with the senior agent. Mulder would never see it that way. Different points of view. Alex wanted to pound something with frustration. Everything he'd done had been justifiable, ambiguous at best and sometimes the only option he'd had, but Mulder would find a way to twist all of it and find the immorality of his actions, saying, 'see, you were wrong; you're a bad person and should be punished accordingly'. For a profiler, Mulder sometimes was given to incredibly shortsighted behavior. When he was too close to something it tended to blind him to the reality of the situation. And therein lay the clue on how to approach Mulder's usual routine towards him.

Mulder regarded him with a tolerant expression. Something in Krycek's eyes told him that it was worth getting into this. Something... something he didn't want Mulder to know, about why he was really here. Something he kept buried even from himself. Mulder's instincts were tingling, telling him to see where this led this time, instead of rejecting the man's explanations and presence. He thoughtfully bit his lower lip. "Okay, Krycek. It's your dime. I'll listen, for what it's worth."

Alex's eyes narrowed. Yeah, right. Didn't mean he'd believe him though. Oh well. What did he have to lose, at this point? It was a free interview. Might as well take the chance while it presented itself.

"Look, I know you were angry that you'd been taken in by me when we first met. You relaxed your natural suspicion and paranoia and got burned, not to mention embarrassed. And it *wasn't* all an act - hence it's success. I really did look up to you and what you were doing. I wished I wasn't already in so deep that I wouldn't have jeopardized all of us if I'd bailed at that point. I don't have a death wish. But I made the mistake of actually trusting Cancerman. Maybe I got what I deserved for betraying you, there. But I was cut loose afterwards, I was a little too good at what I did, I *wasn't* just a hired gun and that scared them. I could see what they were doing and all too often I was able to work out what their agenda was without even being let in on it. That's why fucking Spender tried to fry me in a car bomb and then left me to rot in that...." He trailed off, and took a breath.

"Look, I did what I had to do, to survive. And I really don't see how you can blame me for that. I'd love to know what you'd have done if you were in my shoes." He shook his head, looking at the opposite wall without seeing it.

Mulder regarded him. "Well, there's this thing you might've heard about: it's called a conscience? Killing people in cold blood and stealing information to sell to the highest bidders isn't considered very polite down our way." Unbidden, the memory of seeing Krycek looking sick and confused after having just shot Augustus Cole, believing he'd saved Mulder's life in doing so, flashed across his mind. He buried it. He didn't need to get on a sympathy jag for *Krycek*, of all people.

"How can you presume to sit in judgment over me, Mulder? Don't even try to pretend you haven't killed outside the line of duty, yourself. You're playing the field just as I am. You bend the rules when it suits you. You don't work for the FBI, you're working for yourself. 'Spooky Mulder', indeed. We can always count on to you to be chasing little green men in flying saucers. Your whole act, your crusade is a carefully built-up web of self-deceit based on the premise that if you say the right things in the name of justice and truth, it justifies the pursuit of your sister at the expense of everything else."

Krycek had to be as tired as he looked, too, Mulder mused to himself. The man was cracking; getting emotional and talking way more than was ordinary for him. Sharing in-depth - no, revealing personal opinions; they couldn't all be lines. He looked too upset. Time to break down even more of those usual defenses, thought Mulder.

He deliberately did not get upset in response. In fact, he just sat there. He hoped he looked thoughtful and quiet, as though accepting the fact that Krycek had made a point and got to him.

Finally he said, "Yeah, okay, you might be right. But at least I have a goal, an aim. Something to work for. It might be personal, but it's in a good cause. I'm not just working for myself, I'm working for more than an ideal. It goes way beyond principles or even generalizations like 'humanity'. You're the one who's working for just himself, to save your own sorry ass."

Alex snorted. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. You're not working for your sister or anyone else, you're trying to purge the guilt trip leftover from her abduction, your childhood and your -" he stopped, aware he'd almost gone too far and mentioned the dreaded 'f'-word.

Fathers and sons... He wondered which was worse; Mulder's father resenting and blaming a young boy all those years for a decision that *he* had made long before Fox was born, or Spender shooting his own son simply because he turned out to have more of Mulder's conscience and sense of justice than he'd thought. It was a toss-up. He could sympathize because his own father - no, he wasn't going into that.

But Bill Mulder's ghost always lurked between them every time they met. Even dead and from beyond the grave, the old bastard was still screwing up his 'son'. You ought to thank me for getting rid of him for you, Alex thought. Mulder sat there looking pissed off and pretending not to be; angry again because of all his imagined terrible deeds that he was supposed to have committed. Well, not all of them imagined, Alex corrected with a twinge of conscience that Mulder didn't think he possessed. But sometimes the end does justify the means. Some things he'd had to do were beyond anything Mulder could ever forgive. Thank god he'd never find out. And the price?

Ah, Fox, if only you knew, thought Alex. The world revolves around you, doesn't it? And then he thought, why not? Why not play the angle, keep the spotlight from returning to him... things could be worse. At least Mulder hadn't thrown him out yet.

"That smoking bastard was proud of you. He had high hopes - they all did. You weren't meant to turn out so righteous and morally outspoken about the search for the truth, though. The loss of your sister was supposed to push you into their open arms. You were the prodigal son. Instead it made you hunt them down, and in doing so created an inadvertent legend. You've immortalized the X-Files. Congratulations. They feared you for it. You showed too much initiative... a failing I shared, actually." He gave a short laugh, almost mocking. "You were the heir-apparent, destined to assume the mantle and carry on the good work, only you realized that the price wasn't negotiable and the outcome wasn't worth the cost of your soul."

"Should I be grateful that you paid that price instead?" Mulder asked, sharply, wondering if Krycek realized he kept staring at his hands. He glanced down at them, wondering what Krycek saw in them. Maybe it was his fingers. On a purely aesthetic level, his fingers were nicer than Krycek's. He was glad. He'd always felt Krycek was a lot more attractive than he was. But if Krycek's gaze dropped any lower he was going to have to kick the shit out of him after all. Being checked out and groped by Krycek was not his idea of a quiet night in.

Alex regarded him with disbelief. "Are you on PMS or something? Fuck, I can't believe you're being so bitchy ... I'm talking about ruling the world. They aren't there anymore; all that's left is a splintered global power base composed of small-minded, ignorant and greedy political factions we call government, for lack of a better word."

"Yeah? I never wanted power, Krycek; all I wanted was my goddamned *sister* back!"

"Well, I'd like my arm back," Alex muttered. "Not to mention my life. We don't all get what we want. Sometimes we end up making sacrifices for people in the name of duty, even in our attempts to make up for past wrongs."

Mulder threw him a guilty glance before he could stop himself. And sighed. They were both well aware that if Mulder hadn't dragged him out of that camp in Siberia, Alex wouldn't have lost his arm. Abruptly, he climbed to his feet and wandered towards the kitchen. "You want anything?" he called out, nonchalantly, and not a little tongue-in-cheek, "Coffee, tea? Me?"

"No, thanks." Alex deliberately ignored his sarcasm. "I don't think you're capable of giving me what I want. Neither understanding nor forgiveness are in your vocabulary." And I'll be damned before I beg for those things from you, he thought. Then pressed his lips together. Since when did he *care* whether Mulder forgave him or not? And why was he letting him get to him tonight? Oh yeah; it was because he came here specifically to try to clear all of this. It had been an ill-formed plan from the start. Get Mulder past the fist- swinging stage onto arguing, then angry talking, gradually easing into neutral conversation.

Mulder reappeared, leaning in the doorway. "Oh, really? How about a free throw? Get me back for some of the times I hit you? I'll let you have one shot. Take your best."

"Unlike you, I never got my kicks from wanting to slap you around, Mulder," he growled. "I can take you anytime. I just don't see the point in Neanderthal pissing contests."

"Fine. Suits me. But don't ever expect me to offer again." Mulder turned and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Alex pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt a headache coming on. His shoulder ached and he was exhausted. He wondered why he didn't just give him the damned lead and leave. But then, even a razor-sharp battle of repartee with Mulder was better than nothing. He was still interacting with him and truth be told -

I miss him. It's really good to see him again. It's been a while; too long.

The admission scared him slightly. Usually he tried to never let himself think about it. But a little frisson would go through him whenever it became necessary to seek him out for a clandestine nighttime rendezvous. He wondered what Mulder would do if he forced Alex about the issue of tonight's little visit and discovered what he was really doing there.

There was a measure of comfort in just being able to look at him again, to see him in the same room rather than on the end of a hidden wire on his phone, or a camera in the FBI offices...

I honestly just wish we could talk, without always ending up like this. I wish he *could* forgive me. Impossible. And why do I give a shit?! Why am I doing this? Oh, right; because I needed an excuse to see him. And why? He's an asshole! Right. All work and no play makes me a desperate fool, I guess. But man cannot live on emptiness alone.

He allowed himself the momentary indulgence of loneliness. He had no friends. There weren't really many opportunities to talk with someone who might understand the various weird elements that composed his life. Mulder at least would know what the hell he was on about.

He exhaled tiredly and leaned his head against his hand, resting his elbow against the sofa. He was glad Mulder hadn't attacked him, this once. Was actually tolerating his presence. And then couldn't help wondering if it was because the last time they'd met he'd let down his guard, actually kissed him and given him back his gun. Even given him a chance to take a shot, if he'd wanted to. Shit... He'd replayed that so many times afterwards. Especially the way his skin had felt on his lips.

Alex tried to remember what the hell had possessed him to actually find the courage to do that. Let's see; it had been dark and the urgency to impress upon Mulder the seriousness of the situation, as well as his sincerity, had driven him to do something that could easily be misinterpreted.

He wasn't even sure he could interpret it himself. Planting a kiss on him was just about the most easily misinterpreted act possible. He'd rationalized that it was to get Mulder to climb out of his depression.

Oh, come on, he said silently to himself, you wanted to do it. You wanted to grab that opportunity to let him know that you wish things were different, to try to break through that anger whenever he sees you.

I wonder what he really thought of it. I'm surprised he hasn't come out with any choice new insults. I've certainly given him a fresh new line of ammunition -

Mulder's reappearance in the living room with two mugs jolted him. Alex sat up straight, his adrenaline-laced reaction stopping Mulder in his tracks with a look of surprise that turned into a smirk. "Jumpy, much? Here, this should help. A caffeine hit to your system'll do the trick nicely. I swear by it, myself; keeps me going all night long."

He handed him a full cup that Alex took, bemused. Mulder sat down on the other end of the couch. It was a little too close for comfort. They were hardly amiable acquaintances. Alex found himself considering what Mulder might mean by this gesture. He didn't have time for this, did he? He'd already stayed far too long. He checked his watch. 1:16 AM... Christ. "I can't stay. There's something important you need to check out tomorrow. I-"

"Yeah? I didn't have any plans, so maybe I can accommodate you. I'll tell you what, I'll take what you give me on blind faith if you'll turn yourself over to me now and let me pick your brains over at the Bureau. After I get back, of course, from what is sure to be another illuminating glimpse into something tantalizingly juicy that you've picked out for me that will evade me with equally disappointing results as last time. Or if that doesn't work for you, let me check my diary. Maybe we can do lunch instead. Is next week okay? Say, Monday?"

Alex stared at him. "Sometimes you are unbelievably immature."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. But I'll settle for the best explanation you can offer for why you kissed me. I mean, what'll it be this time? I find myself wondering what you'd be willing to do if I actually invited you over sometime. Rather than waiting to see what you'll do next time you break in." Gotcha, Mulder thought, at the surprise and vulnerability that inadvertently slid over Krycek's face as the implications behind his words sank in. It was quickly covered with his usual stony implacability.

"Screw this," Alex declared, setting his coffee down untouched on the table before him. "I made the mistake of thinking you were still after the truth. Your priorities are just as whacked out as the last time I was here."

"I can't believe I'm giving you the time of day, or is it night? Early morning? Coming from a liar as pathological as yourself, I'm surprised you'd think I'd trust any information you give me," murmured Mulder, sipping from his own coffee. "Last time I listened to you, I got mind-wiped."

Alex's hand clenched in his lap. Tightly, he asked, "Because you were so close to it they had to cover their tracks. You were in the right place at the right time, for once." And he added with a sidelong glance, "Thanks to yours truly." He stood up. "You keep bursting my bubble. Why won't you give me *any* credit? Every time I hand you something valuable, you throw it back in my face or pretend that it wasn't me who led you to it. From now on I won't bother wasting my time or yours. Happy?"

"Not really. You keep avoiding the issue. I can't trust anything you say until we've established a personal basis upon which I *can* begin to trust you. And that means resolving certain issues regarding your rather suspect motives in our sordid and, well, frankly *fucked-up* relationship. Traitor. Murderer. *Killer*." Yet, Mulder's voice lacked its usual venom when he said it.

Alex stared down at him, trying to get a handle on where Mulder was actually coming from. "Mulder, I hardly think that accusing me of being a bastard will solve the bigger problem. You can't see past personal grudges. You keep letting your personal problems cloud the picture for you. It's way bigger than either of us."

"I can't see you shooting my father as anything *but* personal, but... Krycek, sit down. Come on. I take everything personally. If it isn't personal, then it's a line - it's just propaganda. It has to mean something to me and to others on an individual basis or it's bullshit. You know that. And I hit you because you piss me off, on principle. You'll notice I haven't taken a single swing at you tonight. So stop complaining; you're the one acting like a child, now."

Alex looked down at him, stiffly. "So much for an adult conversation, huh? Back to the bickering." But he sat back down, sinking with a frown. "I'm so fucking tired of this - in fact, why don't you get your gun? Just go on and take your shot. Here, use mine." He nodded at the table. "Get it over with. Maybe it'll do you some good to purge all that pent-up hostility over your father's death. Clear the way for some sound thinking. God knows you need it after your stint in the nuthouse. Must've hurt to have the two people you trusted most turn on you like that." He shot him a wary look. It was a sharp reminder and the point was made: how Mulder could continue to bear a grudge against him on the principle of trust when even Scully and Skinner had displayed their own fallibility...

But Mulder didn't rise to it. He sipped at his coffee again. "That's funny; I was going to say the same thing to you; ask you to put me out of my misery. Since I'm as screwed up as everyone seems to think I am."

"Spare me your self-pity trip. I have my own to deal with."

"I noticed." The quiet change in Mulder's voice was enough to remind him that he was looking for a way under his guard.

Alex licked his lips, wondering how he was going to be able to depart gracefully. "I don't want to fight anymore. It's pointless and accomplishes nothing."

Mulder had also noticed the higher color in Krycek's face, and the way he avoided holding his gaze. His eyes narrowed. So Krycek didn't like sitting next to him, huh? "I don't want to fight, either - I'm too tired. We both are. So relax. Let's just call it, for now. I'd like to get back to that earlier point, about that intriguing way you have of attempting to prove your sincerity. In the dark. Without words. What are you; the Syndicate whore? Must be tough, not having any asses to kiss, or old men to bend over for, anymore."

This had of course the opposite effect of making Krycek tense even further. Interesting, Mulder thought. And realized that making him squirm was even more fun than taking out his frustration on him in the form of blows... He made such an easy target of himself. Now why would he do that unless he secretly felt, perhaps subconsciously, that he deserved it or that there was some truth in it?

Almost defensively, Alex glanced at the door and then regarded the floor. In a low voice, he answered, "You choose to believe what you like, whatever's convenient. You always do."

Alex couldn't believe he'd actually said that aloud. He sounded almost as if he was sulking, and he hadn't meant to. He wondered if it were just him or if there was a strained, tense current in the air between them. Almost electric, as though at any moment something violent might erupt and yet due to their agreement to not go down that road again the energy continued to build this time. To new volatile heights. There was something different about it though. As if Mulder were daring him to make the first move.

Mulder always broke the tension by going for him; ending their dance in a clinch at gun-point where the only sane thing left to do was to back away and distance themselves from each other until the next confrontation. It was almost sexual. And he had been trying so hard to keep any hint of that from entering into it tonight.

He found himself sweating... he'd never imagined Mulder might allow it to escalate to this point. He agitatedly pulled off his jacket. It was far too hot.

"I will", Mulder answered, slowly, "and I have to say, from where I'm sitting it looks an awful lot like you've got some kind of masochistic tendency. You always come back for more. You could have phoned me, or sent a message. But you always come in person, knowing that I'll most likely lose my temper when I see you. I'd say you do have a conscience: a guilty one, and you think that if you can buy back my trust with little snippets and goodies, that *that'll* wash your sins away. And that every time I hit you, you get a little closer to paying off your debts to me. And you do owe me. Only I don't think any number of beatings could ever repay what you took from me. It'll take a lot more than that."

"*Fuck* you, Mulder." Alex snapped at this; a tight coldness settling in his belly. Like anger and hurt and sorrow all wrapped into one. "I'm not sitting here for you to take verbal shots at me in lieu of real ones." He was a fool to remain here... he was going to leave. He didn't have to take this.

"Actually - it's the other way around, I believe. Fuck *you*, Alex. Otherwise you'd be man enough to give as good as you get." Mulder was more than aware of how close to the breaking point he was pushing him. He suspected that he might be a little too close, the man *was* an assassin but the curiosity to see if he could actually break through Krycek's reserved exterior and get a response was too irresistible. The tension now was so strong he could almost see it in the scant couple of feet that separated them.

Alex went white, breathing harder. The urge to wipe that smug look off Mulder's face was overwhelming... and he *knew* Mulder was needling him deliberately. The asshole had no idea the danger he was in. Anger - wanting to grab him and hold him down, hit him... to do whatever took his imagination in the moment... to make him cry out, *god*, yes.

And yet, humiliation washed over him as he realized Mulder was right: he couldn't hit him. Not deliberately. Not like Mulder did so casually to him. He had no desire to hurt him. He never had. Oh sure, he'd felt the impulse to hit back but had never done so, putting it down to it being beneath him to dignify Mulder's violent bullying and righteous indignant anger. But even when he'd found himself really wishing he could smash his fist in the other man's face, he'd been unable to allow himself to. Probably for the same reason Mulder couldn't ever *stop* himself from doing it...

He found himself sitting paralyzed, unable to move. He wanted to get up and leave but doing so now would seem as if he were running away, even if it was the only mature and dignified thing left to do. To remain now was to play on Mulder's level and by his rules. But he had no choice. The thin, narrow edge between being fucking *furious*... and bending yet again to figuratively take it up the ass - he could understand what Mulder was implying. Was he actually prolonging his own role as Mulder's whipping-boy with his actions?

Mulder was taut, waiting to see whether Krycek would get up and leave or not. He didn't think the man would attack him. Not from a simple verbal provocation. And he could smell him from where he sat; musky, damp with fresh sweat - was that fear or desire - it gave him a sudden urge to run his tongue along his neck...

Alex's voice was noncommittal; and actually quiet, belying the silent storm inside of him. "What do you want?"

"Well, you've never actually apologized to me; are you aware of that? In all this time, not once?" Mulder's answer was calm, measured. His posture was relatively relaxed, too. As though he really didn't think there was a reason to fear Krycek's reaction.

Alex's eyes flickered and he blinked once before letting out a breath. "I always figured you wouldn't believe me." He dared a glance at Mulder.

Krycek sounded sincere. Like not even daring to hope that he might believe...

Shit.

Mulder realized he'd just lost his leverage in the same instant that he acknowledged that Krycek actually cared what he might think of him, or that Krycek was feeling anything at all. That engaging with him on this level placed him on an equal footing, actually. If he believed Krycek was sincere, that he cared, he was vulnerable to whatever manipulations the man might consider. On the other hand, if he admitted that *he* cared what Krycek was actually going through, he was also vulnerable. Fuck. He bit his upper lip, considering.

Oh, the hell with it. He didn't want just an apology, or even to beat him -he wanted... he wanted to know that it meant everything to Krycek and nothing to himself. To be able to walk away without any investment at all, and to leave Krycek with the guilt and responsibility. I am *not* going to be the one who gets hurt this time, he swore to himself. Finally, he replied, "You could always try to earn my trust again."

"I thought you said I'd killed it," Alex scoffed.

"Well, there're some things even you can't do unless you really mean it. Unless you're sincere."

"Such as?"

Mulder smiled, the first authentic one since Krycek arrived, in fact. "You could rub my feet, for a start."

"What?" Not really believing what he was hearing, Alex wondered if Mulder was implying what he thought he was. That smile wasn't helping, either. It was playful. Which was not good; it was dangerous, actually.

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I'll pass; I don't think that would place us on an equal footing, if you'll pardon the expression."

Mulder raised his brows and cocked his head at him with an almost quizzical look. "You have to earn equality, and you have to earn that before you can earn respect or trust."

"Right. And if I lower myself to being your personal foot-slave, I'll lose any possibility of ever being taken seriously again. Very funny. You know you really are sick, Mulder? I can't believe I've sat here buying this as long as I have."

"Neither can I. So what's keeping you here?"

A flare of pure arousal ran through Alex at this frank challenge. He wanted to blurt out, the possibility of kissing you again even if it's just the one time. One kiss on the mouth, just once. He closed his eyes. This was -insane. Madness. He didn't want that. No. It was far too simple, and the act would simply leave them right where they were, at an impasse. He could feel a surge of something very close to desperation welling up inside. No matter which way it went, he would end up losing. Always. Because Mulder hated him, and if he did kiss him again, he was just proving Mulder's point. Consortium whore. Somehow, that particular appellation stuck in his throat. And hurt. He felt lightheaded, wondering if exhaustion and caffeine combined with adrenaline, desire and anger was healthy if endured too long.

Mulder grinned at him almost devilishly. "I take it from your speechless state and blank stare that you don't know? Shall I tell you?"

"Be my guest."

"The same thing that keeps you coming back here again and again."

"And what's that?" Calling Mulder's bluff. What fun. *Not*. Alex was defensive.

Mulder shrugged. "You want to be fucked. By me - you want me to do it. You need me to do it; anyone else wouldn't be able to give you want you want, because of your guilt complex."

Alex almost burst out laughing, from the release of tension as well as derision. "If it that was the case, I'd just tell you. I would've asked years ago. Come on, Mulder, I thought you were supposed to be good."

Mulder rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Oh GOD, tell me you're not that lame - let me guess. Romance, roses and declarations written in flowery script?"

"Where's that famed profiling ability of yours?" Krycek's almost comical frown jabbed a little, lessening the fun. "All I ever wanted was for you to *like* me."

Mulder found himself at a loss for words, for once. Krycek had on his 'you won't believe me, you never do, but it's true' face. He had all the appearance of a kicked puppy trying to put on a brave front. Shit, that meant that he was right - Krycek *was* feeling sorry for himself. What had he let himself in for? He found himself wondering if he really wanted to continue this or just call it a night. Cold feet? He considered Krycek's mouth, those impossible eyelashes. It ought to be illegal for a man to possess eyelashes like those. Gave him an unfair advantage; they let him confuse the enemy...

Krycek continued, "So I guess *you* want to fuck me, am I right? Or is it the other way around? It makes sense, actually. You're always grabbing me and pushing me around, even if it's to try and beat the crap out of me. Anything to get your hands on me."

Mulder began chuckling to himself, quietly. That was the little pot calling the kettle black. Jeez. He rubbed his face with both hands. And yawned, letting his head drop back against the couch and closing his eyes. "Whatever. You started it though, with that kiss. Go on; tell me you don't want me. I dare you; I double-dare you."

"This is silly," Alex declared, "we're not in high school. If you don't believe that I like you, that I've only ever wanted you to like me, then maybe you aren't really worth the effort."

"It's kind of hard to like you, Krycek. You make it fucking difficult. Maybe your choice of career has something to do with it. Or maybe it's your lack of ethical consideration regarding other people's lives." Mulder didn't even bother opening his eyes. He was certain the night had gone on too long, that he was dreaming Krycek's visit and the man wasn't sitting in a pout beside him. He wished he wasn't actually, because he was hard and wanted to take care of it. Then again, that's what Krycek was here for, the reason why he'd come in the first place. Maybe he should go ahead and give him a show.

"You're pretty hard to like, yourself." Alex's reply was accompanied by the silent motion of reaching out his hand to touch Mulder's face. He simply rested the back of his warm fingers briefly against his cheek.

Mulder opened his eyes, staring ahead, considering. His voice was rougher, lower. "But it's hard to keep not liking you, too."

Alex pulled his hand away. "Mulder? You said I could take one shot, earlier. Did you mean it?"

Mulder looked at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should be worried. "Yeah. Why? You suddenly feeling up to it, or something?"

"Let's just say I'll take what I can get. If I can't have your friendship, than I'll take this." And he slowly shifted near, scooting close, reaching out his hand again to Mulder's cheek. Only this time, he turned him to face him, giving him enough time to pull back if he wanted. Mulder didn't move, his eyes on Krycek's mouth.

Alex took a breath and then leaned in close, his eyes shut, finding his mouth by feel. God, so warm and sweet, melting, this simple act. Mulder's lips were soft and hot, and surprised. Alex wondered why he indulged in so much self-deception where Fox Mulder was concerned. He felt a new and strange little emotion fluttering inside of him. And identified it seconds later as their kiss deepened, Mulder opening his mouth under his. What was that feeling? It was singing away inside of him. Acceptance, affection, intimacy, it was... love. It didn't matter if they were friends, enemies, lovers, it was all the same to him. He still felt it. N-no. Not this, not now. He couldn't afford to. Why wasn't Mulder moving back and hitting him for this?

He pulled away suddenly, his heart racing. His face felt hot, but Mulder's cheeks were flushed, too. He suddenly couldn't look him in the eye. This was absurd. He was confusing the two. Love was not lust. He couldn't give him both. Not at the same time. Mulder would break him.

Something in Mulder snapped like a rubberband. It must have been the openly suffering look on Krycek's face, the over-brightness of his eyes, his sudden reticence and shyness. His fear. The way he pressed his lips together in one of his rarely-observed moments of reserved seriousness. Mulder briefly wondered if he could be faking it, but the anguish in the way Krycek sat there, refusing to look at him, told him that at this point it didn't matter. Damn, this really *did* mean a lot to him! He had to admit, it made it more exciting, this way. And thought, why the hell not?

Alex closed his eyes, savoring the moment that had just passed, wondering if Mulder would now tell him to leave. It had been worth it, after all. He could live with this. He wouldn't analyze the fact that he'd just lost all chance of Mulder respecting him now. The words 'Syndicate whore' rang in his ears and hurt. And hurt. He hurt, feeling it suffuse him to the point where he didn't care anymore. Mulder could do his worst, it didn't matter. Talk about hitting rock-bottom, he thought. What's the point of anything anymore.

And then abruptly found himself being pressed backwards into the couch, down farther and farther until he was twisted slightly, lying on his back, Mulder's hands firmly holding his shoulders down. And then Mulder's mouth was on his, hot and swift and hard. Passionately, as though Mulder had finally flipped. He couldn't think, could barely visualize what exactly comprised a sensible response to this other than to open his mouth and yield to it, this terrible sinking into wet heaven. Mulder's body was full against him, holding him down; the heat coming off him was enough to make him want to rip his clothes off and lick him all over.

Then there was Mulder's tongue nudging his lips, sucking at them, slipping between them to duel with his own tongue, flicking across his teeth, the taste of him, oh god... the scent of him, in his nose, drowning in it, it was too much. It had been too long, and never with someone where it meant this much. He heard a distant moan that was dragged out and realized it was his own.

"Alex, Alex," Mulder was muttering brokenly against him as he planted wet kisses on his face, one hand reaching up to hold his head, lacing his fingers through his hair and stroking his face with the other. And then Mulder was diving in for another; slower, longer this time.

By the time Mulder lifted his head, Alex was breathless. His face was burning. Hell, his whole body was on fire. Ablaze... it was like swimming through thick liquid fire: hot, hard, wet and deep. He licked his lips and attempted to assess the options open to him in the next few moments. It could go well or it could go very, very badly; particularly if Mulder remembered that he was supposed to hate his guts. Hoarsely, he whispered, "W-want you." That's what came out. He hadn't meant to say that, though. Never mind.

Mulder gave a half-hearted groan and leaned down to let himself lay on him, resting against him with his face crooked in tight into the right side of Alex's neck. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a few seconds to revel in the intoxicating experience of Alex Krycek's warmth, the smell of him, the closeness. The heady blend of desire and caution in the way Alex held himself, as though Mulder would pull away at any moment. And Mulder smiled. This was a much better punishment than anything he had thought up before.

Alex's arm was trapped under Mulder in this position and he could only rest his hand inefficiently against Mulder's left hip. He said in his ear, "Fox? Please tell me you're not jerking me around, here."

"Okay. We'll jerk around in the bedroom instead." Mulder's reply was muffled against his neck, his breath making Alex writhe a little in spite of himself.

"Look," Alex said, more firmly, "is this - are you going to regret this? You know, in the cold light of day and all that?"

"Mm. Probably. But, I'll make you a deal: if the sex is bad, we walk away and forget it ever happened. If it's great, then we play it by ear."

The gentle nibble of teeth and hot breath on his earlobe was distracting enough without the sensation of Mulder moving atop him. "Okay. So, what I do to get by in life is all right with you for now? I'm tired of being lectured."

"Shut up, Alex." Mulder attacked his neck, alternately biting and licking the smooth skin there.

Alex's cock was hard and aching in his pants, trapped as it was against the constricting material - especially in his current position. He wriggled under Mulder, from both the heated mouth worrying at him and his erection that was now insistently demanding he stop ignoring it. And if Mulder didn't stop grinding his groin into him it was going to be all over.

But the wriggling only made Mulder stop and hold him down more firmly. "Going somewhere?"

"No, but I'll be coming somewhere, and soon if you don't get off me. Unless you *want* me coming in my pants?"

Mulder relinquished his hold and pulled himself up. He stood and offered Alex his hand to pull him upright to his feet. Alex took it. A languid smile crossed his face and he surprised Alex by wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close against him once more, with a kiss more sensual than before, more appreciatively, taking the time to taste, to memorize.

With his heart thudding in his ears, Alex pulled back and looking directly into those warm and somehow mournful eyes. "Are you really gonna let me have you? You're gonna go through with this?"

"Why do I keep getting the impression that you hold your breath after everything you say?" Mulder kissed him with a smack on his lips. Delicious. In fact, more than. Well, okay; it was obvious Alex was still worried about something. He'd wait to pounce. Until they got in the bedroom, anyway. "Didn't you have something you needed to tell me, Alex? Or can it wait until morning?"

Alex's gaze slipped away. "Actually, now that you mention it..." he died out.

Mulder lifted his eyebrows. "Yeah?" His arms slipped away, leaving Alex free to step away if he wanted to.

"There wasn't anything. Not really. It wasn't anything that can't be done at another time. It wasn't that important. I just wanted to - "

Mulder reached out his hand to cup Alex's chin and lift his head to face him. "Yeah?" He repeated. "What?"

"To see you. Just, to see you again. That's all."

Mulder considered this. "I thought so, actually. Sounds like high school behavior to *me*. You know, I think this is the first time since it all went to hell that I believe you?"

"Thanks, I think." Alex's tone was dry. "I'm dying here. Do you think we could move on, now?"

Mulder found Krycek's nervousness a definite turn-on. He grinned. "So move." He shook his head, "After you; I want to watch your ass."

Alex stepped away, walking towards the bedroom. He opened the door and then stopped and half-turned, with a smile. "Sorry, but I have to ask. Why a waterbed?"

Mulder came in behind him. "It's a long story. C'mere." He had pulled off his tie and shirt and now began assisting Alex with his t- shirt.

His shoulder... Mulder's hands moved against the straps of his prosthetic. Alex pulled away, his throat going dry. "It's - it's not a pretty sight." Mulder reached for him again though and kissed him savagely, leaving a burn on his chin, his lips swollen, to kiss away his doubt.

Somehow, every time Krycek showed a little more of himself behind the crumbling defenses, every time he slipped into a vulnerable mode, Mulder felt his balls tighten and draw up. He wanted to ride him, hard. Pinch his nipples, twist them, make him cry out... "It's a little late to back out now," he muttered against him, before stepping away once more, to remove his socks and shoes. And then unzipped his pants and slid them down. He knew Alex was watching and couldn't help making a slight production of it, pulling his briefs down even more slowly. "Get over here," he ordered.

Alex closed the bedroom door, leaving very little light in the room. Without letting himself dwell too long on anything, he removed his shirt, and the prosthesis. And then the rest, boots and jeans, followed... It was easy, in the dark, knowing he couldn't see him. Usually he didn't let it bother him; but Mulder's appraisal mattered. What spiked into his heart the most though, was that he didn't have two good arms to hold him with. He fervently promised to make up for it.

Mulder pulled back the covers beside him. "Next time you plan on coming round, do you think you could make it a little earlier?"

"No problem." He joined him in the dark, and found Mulder's arms wrapping tentacle-like around him, pulling him close while he possessed his mouth again.

There was something novel about being naked together. The earlier tension hadn't dissipated at all. If anything it had stretched to a fever-keen pitch. Each of them wondering if the other would really go all the way. Their legs were entangled and the glaringly inescapable sensation of both their hard cocks against each other's bodies were like two hard brands on their skin, between them.

Alex just hoped Mulder wouldn't freak out at any point and bail. Mulder didn't disappoint him, however, and brought his hands down to investigate his nipples, pulling at them and finally pinching them hard enough to make him wince and gasp. He reached down a hand to grip Alex's cock, hard, forcing a deep groan from him. "J-jesus! Fox. God -"

"Been a while since someone did that for you?" Mulder murmured.

"I don't think anyone else has touched me in... a long time. A very long time."

Alex launched himself at Mulder's mouth, allowing himself the luxury of losing control. He decided to let go and just follow his whims, wherever they led him. And he was pushing him back against the bed, inching his way down his neck, to the delightful, perky nipples, sucking at them until they pebbled, smoothing his hand through the curls on his chest. Across that trim stomach and then Mulder was parting his legs as Alex felt for the hard cock with his face, rubbing against the silky shaft with his cheek, letting it blindly caress him before opening his mouth. Without any warning, he took him in as far he could on his first bob down. He heard the breath sucked into Mulder's lungs and almost smiled around the sizeable erection filling his mouth.

Mulder nearly lost it; his hands shot down to hold Alex's head. Alex began the exquisitely tortuous slow rhythm of moving up and down. Alex lashed his tongue on the glans and then sucked hungrily on the crown before he skewered his mouth on him again. He kept a steady pace for a few more seconds until he felt the telltale tensing as Mulder began to near completion. No way, he thought. Not this time, anyway. And gripped the base of his penis.

Mulder cried out as Alex let him slip from his mouth.

"Fox, I want you. Let me - come on - let me have you," Alex gasped. "Move!"

Mulder was still for a moment and then rolled over, to lay on his front. Somewhat relieved that Mulder was going along with this, Alex moved behind him to position himself between his legs and then ran his hand soothingly along his thighs, down along his lean flank, over the taut buttocks. Stroking his pale cheeks, he grinned to himself in the dark. Now *this* was worth all of it. Any of it, combined. Any price. Even reparations and accusations in the morning. And he lay down, happily getting into position, bending Mulder's knee to push his right leg up farther out of the way. Pressing his face against the soft skin, he began to place slow kisses on each cheek, moving down farther until Mulder was making little shudders under him.

Mulder was gripping the edges of the pillow with white knuckles. The thought of that beautiful mouth moving on him, *those* fuckable lips doing this to him, made his cock drip, trapped as it was against the bed. As the soft, almost tickling sensation of Alex's tongue licked gently and admiringly against his tight pucker, he clenched his teeth but couldn't help the answering groan. Willing him to go farther, Alex didn't disappoint him. With a teasing side-to-side motion before sliding right into him, Alex's tongue then began to stab into him lightly and swirl around, long and wet. "Alex. Alex!" he called out, unable to hide the ragged tone of desperation.

Down below, Alex pulled back. He sounded patient. "Yes, Fox? I'm kind of busy just now."

Mulder was breathing heavily, his head whirling. "Will you - just do it, already."

"Do what, Fox?" Alex had a mischievous tone of innocence.

"Just, fuck me! Come on!"

The rich chuckle that reached his ears filled him with a double prong of anticipation and unease. "When I'm all done here, when you're ready," Alex replied, patting his butt lightly. "And certainly not until I'm ready." And returned to his relentlessly slow and languorous task of driving Mulder insane. He wasn't going to stop until he was well-lubricated, knowing what he was planning to do afterwards. Besides, he wasn't eager to abandon this; rich and wonderful, and to make Fox squirm and beg, oh god the power. The thrill of hearing that voice asking him for it!

Finally, after a keening kind of moan, Mulder found himself begging. "Please, Alex! Fuck me now! Come on - please! Fucking do it! Now!"

Alex let him writhe and struggle a bit more, knowing it wasn't really enough to bring him off. Then he clambered up, letting every inch of him slide against Mulder's fevered flesh as he settled himself against him, moving to nestle his cock along the now-slippery crack. "Fox - oh, baby... Listen, when was the last time you did this? I only ask because I know how it can be, and I'm willing to take it slow, for you."

Mulder considered this before replying in a quiet, subdued voice. "Yeah. But don't worry, I can take it."

Alex snickered somewhat, teasing his balls with a light touch, caressing them lightly and making him move in new ways. "You actually trust me, huh?"

"Hell, if I can't now, then what are we doing here? Don't you dare leave me like this." And he bucked back against him, causing a moan from the man atop him as his prick slid along his length, nestled between his asscheeks. Mulder wildly felt under the other unused pillow for condoms, grabbed one blindly and ripped it open, thrust it back at him. Alex immediately seized it. Without wasting any time, he rolled it on with trembling fingers and returned to the ultimate point of no return, of *doing Fox*...

"Fuck," muttered Alex with feeling, reaching down to help guide the tip of himself to the tight hole and press inwards with just a nudge.

Mulder was lost in the unusual experience as it burned and stretched him. But he gritted his teeth against the impatience he felt; he was more than ready and wanted the tight friction of it. Finally he couldn't stand it any more. "Damn it, Alex! Just fuck me! Jesus."

Alex laughed lowly in his ear at the desperation in his voice. "Yeah, you want it, Fox? You got it. Here you go. All you want, all you can take," as he began to push upwards, farther and deeper into that impossibly tight, hot vise-like grip. It felt like a hundred silken, molten fingers curling and wrapping around his cock. "God!" he breathed. This was *not* going to last long.

The head of Alex's cock was bumping against that sweet, wild spot inside with every slow thrust, sending a hot flash of urgency through him. Mulder began to wonder if one could die from being fucked. He could suddenly understand why old men who married teen nymphos died of heart-attacks...

And then there was nothing but the solid, rapidly increasing tempo of Alex fucking his ass. Each time Alex pushed into him, his legs got weaker and he found a guttural cry forced out of him. Mulder reached down to grasp at his cock with one hand under him.

Alex couldn't stand it anymore, losing it in the need to drill Mulder's tight, deliciously hot ass under him into the bed. The bed was moving, giving them the sensation of floating on a lake or on a wave-tossed, choppy sea. He was deliriously ramming into that hot channel, delighting in the noises Mulder was making beneath him. He found himself licking and biting the back of his neck mindlessly. Fox wasn't helping, struggling and shoving himself against him. "Fuck me, fuck me harder, dammit, oh god, *fuck* me, harder, Alex! Oh fuck, *fuck*, *FUCK*!"

And then the cream was boiling inside, erupting, shooting out of him even as Mulder's ass suddenly clenched around him tightly and was pulsing sweeter and tighter around his cock than he could stand. He was crying out, shaking, the ecstasy of little lights and tenderness screaming silently in his brain as he felt his come nearly wrenched out of him, draining him of whatever was left with whimpers and sighs.

Mulder let the darkness sweep over him; he hadn't come as satisfyingly as that in a long, long time. He was mildly disturbed by the lone thought that wandered across the surface of his mind; it was addictive. Surely this didn't mean that the only time he could feel this good was with Alex *Krycek*... and why was Alex here again? Oh yeah; because he'd wanted him. Had come over to 'talk'. Yeah, *right*. How ... sweet, actually. He smiled to himself. So the rat- bastard had a weakness after all: him. There were rich possibilities here. And that high-pitched shriek when Alex came; actually, there was nothing girlie about it. In fact, it was a really hot sound. He wanted to hear it again, and drifted off scheming of all the different ways he might be able to make Alex do it more than once.

When he came to, he realized Alex was still lying atop him, although he'd pulled out of him at some point. Alex was idly caressing his arm, his hand moving up and brushing through his hair. There was a slight tremor in Alex though. And then he felt what he thought was a drop of sweat land on his neck. It was followed by another and then a trickle and it suddenly clicked. "Hey, you okay?"

"I can't - I wish - I don't want to go. I don't want to leave just yet." His voice was rough and torn, and small. Almost like a boy's. "Please? It's been so long since I had this." ...and it's been so long, I've wanted you for far too long. I don't want it to be over so fast.

He hated himself for allowing himself to get drawn into this, for listening to his cock rather than his brain. Common sense told him this would prove far more painful in the long run. It would've been better to simply lust after him from afar. Yet here he was, having successfully got him into bed, still clutching at him.

Mulder felt a combination of pity and concern at the suffering in his voice. He couldn't help feeling touched that he'd be afraid of being kicked out at this point. "Alright." Mulder began to pull out from under him. "But let's move. I can't hold you like this." There were tangled and awkward movements and then Alex was being folded in Mulder's arms with generous affection.

"Jesus, Fox," he whispered, "if I'd known you would - Well... I would have done things differently. I wouldn't have -" A kiss on his forehead was supposedly comforting. But it was still placating.

"Shut up, Alex. Leave it alone for now."

Going along with this for the moment, Alex fell quiet. He let himself be soothed, Mulder wiping his tears and even kissing his cheek in a gesture more gentle than he thought possible of the man, but he knew that it would change with the morning. It had to. Nothing could be this good forever. Not the least because of the incredibly high stakes each of them held in their respective parts in the current game. He was still for too long because Mulder stopped moving, himself.

"Alex?" Mulder was suspicious. "Come on, stop dwelling on it."

"Okay, but I just have to say one thing."

Mulder waited. "Yeah?"

Alex was nearly inaudible. "I'm sorry."

"What?" And it hit him. The full import - "Oh. Right." And then he said in the safety of the dark, "So am I."

"I didn't want to need you."

"Me neither." Mulder sighed. "But I'm not going to worry about it. Maybe you should let it go, you know? Just enjoy the moment."

"I can't." A hard edge entered Alex's voice.

Oh, for god's sake. "Why not?"

There was a harder edge to him now. "Will there ever be a next time?"

"Damn it, Alex!" he chuckled, "This is worse than - You're as bad as a woman, you know that? I've never had to hold someone for so long afterwards." He felt Alex stiffen in his arms and added, "It's not bad sex at all. So, we'll just play it by ear, like we agreed. Okay? But will you stop with the commitment anxiety? Lighten up. If you don't know that you belong to me, now, let me get it into your thick head. You're mine, got it?"

Alex didn't answer, merely lifted his head and captured Mulder's mouth again in a kiss intended to convey acceptance but ended up making Mulder's cock twitch and leap slightly against him. He snickered at this, once. "Yeah, I got that. Loud and clear."

"Impudent," Mulder muttered, "sassy and completely bad. Bad, bad, bad."

"Hey," Alex protested, weakly, as Mulder shifted suddenly, turned and pinned him under him to the bed, using his shoulders and weight to leverage himself, keeping Alex under him, "I thought you were tired."

Mulder grinned down at him in the dark, enjoying the indulgence of holding him down, the feel of his long legs and other... warm, luscious parts naked against his own skin. He wanted him again. Now. "You're *mine*," Mulder repeated, more seriously. "Do I have to prove it to you?"

"Oh, yeah," growled Alex, with a hard push upwards, nearly dislodging him. "God, take me, Fox... prove it to me." Anything else he might have said was swallowed up in the urgent press of Mulder's mouth to his. And couldn't think as his brain was robbed of intelligence.

I guess it'll be a longer night than I thought, Alex mused dazedly as Mulder lifted his legs up to rest them on his shoulders, helping him balance by holding them in place.

"You're so fucking beautiful." Mulder couldn't see it but he was certain that Alex's face was turning red because the hand he placed against his cheek was heated. "Stop fighting me, Alex. You're the one who's fighting *me*. Give in to me. You know you want to." Mulder enjoyed the way saying things like that made Alex react. He tended to blush and squirm while pretending he wasn't. He smiled. "So pretty," and he slid a finger into Alex's mouth, loving the way that mouth, those sweet lips wrapped itself around his finger. He then withdrew it, and moved his hand swiftly down to Alex's ass, wetly sliding it into him, carefully inching his way upwards. God, it felt the same, only tighter, oh dear lord and his cock was going in there?! He hadn't expected the way Alex twisted under him, choking.

"*Fuck*, Fox, oh god... Fox, please, please! Oh, sh-shit - ohhhh..."

A knowing grin crept over Mulder's face - he knew exactly how *that* felt... and he reached up, straining to feel around under the other pillow for the lube he knew he had there. He pulled out another condom too, glad that he'd never bothered putting them away. He quickly unwrapped it and pushed it onto himself, cursing under his breath when it was a little tight towards the base and he had trouble getting it unrolled all the way down. Fumbling to squirt enough onto his fingers, he then slathered his cock. Alex was in for a longer ride this time, he knew. And he grinned wider.

Alex was getting incoherent in his need. "Come on... now. Want you - inside me. Please!"

"I love it when you beg," Mulder gritted out, bending slightly and then enjoying the way Alex arched into him as he speared him slowly, so slowly. But hard.

Alex was open-mouthed and gasping. Mulder nearly came from just having his penis sheathed inside him. Mulder waited until Alex began to make little eager movements with his hips. Alex's legs slipped down to press against him tightly, wrapped hard to his waist and sides, still jerking against him.

"You like that, baby? You want me to fuck you - harder?" He punctuated this with a quick, savage thrust.

"Ohhh, fuck, yes - god -"

Mulder couldn't resist leaning down to plunder that mouth as he drove deeper into him. Then he began to pound him with earnest effort. "Huh? More? Have you - been - wanting - this? You want - me?" Timing each word with a further thrust as he began to slide more deeply into him, leaving a good second or more between each one, making him wait on the edge for them -before slamming in again. "Talk to me, you bastard, I want to hear you say it. Oh, fuck - gonna - *fuck* the truth out of you..."

"Yes, I want it, want you, Fox.... Fox," the words were being ripped from him along with his breath, feeling more and more lost as the battering against his prostate began to take its toll. "Want your... hand on me. Fox, touch me... fuck me, please... oh *f-fuck*!" And then he was falling over the edge again, far too soon, that brilliant burst of pleasure that ripped out his mind as Mulder continued the assault on his ass more quickly and with more jaggedly erratic thrusts. Mulder wrapped his hand around his cock, tight.

Alex's orgasm was as intense as the previous one, maybe even more so considering the fucking he was getting this time... although there was considerably less juice. He was babbling something over and over, hoarsely, entreatingly, the only thing that could help release the pressure of trying to express how fantastic, how fucking *good* it felt. And then his world stopped along with Mulder as he held him still, pausing. Mulder was panting above him, and then sank to suck at his mouth, ravaging him with abandon.

Mulder felt his heart squeeze inside him as Alex was coming, shaking, crying out. It did something to his insides, he couldn't hold back. "I love you, too. Alex, Alex," he ended, on a wail, "Alex! Oh *FUCK* - " and then he was shuddering convulsively as he emptied himself into that dark, hot hole, plunging him with more erratic thrusts until he ran out of momentum as well as come, and collapsed onto him. Alex's legs slipped down woodenly and Mulder snuggled against him, letting the jounce and slosh of the waterbed beneath them lull him into a perfect stillness.

Alex lay there, his eyes blinking in the dark. Had he just heard right? Was he hearing things? Mulder just said he loved him.

For god's *sake*...

And then: 'too?' He loves me *too*?

And realized he'd been shouting that he loved him when he came. Fucking god. Busted.

Oh well. Maybe it was true. Pure contentment and satiation settling inside him for the first time in years rendered worry meaningless.

He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. And it felt good, Mulder laying on him. He moved, slipping Mulder's shrunken cock out of him and nestling into him companionably. He left it for the daylight to solve. And smiled as he felt the even breaths as Mulder's chest rose and fell against him.

finis

  
Archived: 20:25 03/04/01 


End file.
